Poetry with Emotion
by RoswellianKitten
Summary: Who knew a class assignment could be this good. JA


Summary: Who knew a class assignment could be this good? J/A  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone from Joan of Arcadia or any songs that appear in this fic. I wouldn't mind having Christopher Marquette, though. ^.~  
  
Author's Note: Had the inspiration last night while watching Anonymous. Major J/A fluff. Please Read and Review. I just love it. ^.~  
  
"Alright class... Pay attention. Your assignment for tomorrow is to come up with a poem. I don't want a five line limmrick, or just words plopped on a page. I want it to have emotion, imagery, meaning... The poem is totally up to your choosing, but it must be at least 10 lines long. Keep them clean, people. You'll be reading these out loud to the classroom. Okay. Class dismissed."  
Joan grumbled to herself, sliding her books off her desk into her waiting arms, looking over to Adam, who was gathering his own and getting ready to leave the class. Things were still a little awkward between them, ever since he started dating Iris. Joan knew she would have to accept him being with Iris, and that her chance was long gone, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to what was going on than was apparent. She stood there a moment in the now quiet classroom, her eyes still on the spot that Adam had vacated, running the situation through her mind and trying to come up with answers. She was startled back to reality when a husky voice interrupted the stillness of the room. She blinked back into focus, her eyes settling on the familiar visage of God as the cute teenager she had first met months and months ago. It felt like a lifetime to Joan, but in reality it was barely a year since she had begun talking to the Heavenly Father.  
She sighed in resignation, settling her books to rest against the curve of her hips to relieve the burden of the weight on her tired arms. She watched as he straightened up from the door jamb and walked further into the room, not making a sound other than calling her name previously. She watched his approach, unconsciously admiring the strut in his step, before shaking herself of that thought. 'He really needs a new image...'  
"Why Joan, I thought you preferred this image? Whenever you talk to me, you envision me as this persona..."  
"Does that mean if I envision you as Brad Pitt, you'll oblige?"  
"As tempting as the idea sounds, no... Although I must say, he is a fine specimen of my creation. But I didn't come here to discuss about him. I came to talk to you about your poem..."  
"I don't have to do it?" Joan couldn't keep the hope from creeping into her voice, dreading the assignment. She had no creative thought in her mind, body, soul. She couldn't do art like her mother, Iris or Adam. She couldn't write things like Kevin. She couldn't even think of creative things like Luke could with his science. She proved that time and again, like when she destroyed Adam's artwork due to 'failure of imagination.' Now, they want her to create poetry?  
"Of course you do, Joan. Your teacher requires it for his class, and I mustn't interfere." He gave her a grin, knowing that what he has said would infuriate her... and he wasn't disappointed. He watched as her face scrunched up in annoyance, opening and shutting her mouth a few times in preparation for what her tirade. He stopped the chuckle from emerging when she thought better of berating God more than usual, knowing she couldn't get a fair break in anything. "Now, Joan, things aren't that bad..."  
"Aren't bad? I make one of the biggest mistakes – aside from the Ascension disaster, AND with the same guy, I might add... Now, I've got to face my consequence everyday at school and after school during study sessions. On top of that, she's got the most annoying voice outside of the Chipmunks. Everytime she opens her mouth to speak, dogs howl, cats screech, and car alarms go off. How are things not that bad?"  
"Answer me this, Joan... If you could go back to that night, would you tell him something different? Even knowing that you were unsure of how you both really feel?"  
".... I don't know."  
"I think you do. There was a reason for it, and it'll be revealed in due time. I really think you should work on your poem... And don't rush at it. Take your time, and inspiration will come to you."  
"That's it? Just wait for my inspiration? Need I remind you that it's due tomorrow? Second period?" She groaned in frustration as he just gave her a small wave while walking out of the room and out of sight. She shook her head, and grabbed her books, heading to her next class. Could she actually do this assignment? She had no choice...  
  
Adam walked down the hall, slumping deep into his hoodie as he thought about the class assignment. He had no problems with poetry, considering his mom loved to read and write them. He used to love sitting on her lap during the evening and listen to her read a passage from one of her many books, or hear her read off her own. To him, it was musical. He loved her poems, and thought she had real talent. Unfortunately his mom nor anyone else that mattered really saw the things he did. He sighed, realizing he thought about his mom a lot these days. Before Helen Girardi had read the note, he avoided all thoughts of his mom except when he did his art or visited her grave, for the simple fact was he couldn't deal with the emotions that came from thinking of her. But since that night, a burden had lifted off his shoulders. True, he still felt the same pain, but it had lessened a degree... So that he could breathe without gasping for air, so that he could think without struggling for a thought.  
Perhaps he would write a poem on his mom, and how much she meant to him. That would be a good topic for him to write and would fit the requirements that the teacher gave. But that's what his art was for... His art, except for the few that he made for Joan... okay a lot of the things that he made for Joan, was for his mother. Who or what else could he write a poem about. The first thought that came uninvited to his mind was Joan. Could he really write a poem about her? They had gone through a lot, and there was plenty to say... But what could he say about her? Maybe he should write one on his girlfriend, Iris. He avoided all thoughts of Iris, unsure why he unconsciously did that. He should think about her, want to do things for her and about her... Yet he didn't. It was his mother or his Joan. Only in his mind could he call her his... Too bad he couldn't call her that out loud. If only she had let him in, but she didn't.  
What was left to say between them? Could they remain friends? Or was it all over with? He couldn't think or see her without wanting more, feeling more. And she couldn't handle the sight of him and Iris together, so she had begun to avoid him outside of class and school. He used to see her on almost a daily basis, even when she had wrecked his piece and they hadn't been on speaking terms. But now, he saw her in their mutual class, and the occasional study group. Could he say goodbye to Jane? The one girl who really understood him?  
He sighed to himself, shuffling outside to head home. He would sit in his shed and wait for inspiration.  
  
Joan sat at her kitchen table, the nub of her pencil lightly tapping against her plump, bottom lip. Her eyes were fastened on the white, lined paper that was filled with doodles but no words. She still had yet to find her inspiration, and it was almost time for bed. She would never finish this in time. She sighed, folding her arms in front of her on the table top and then resting her chin on her forearms in surrender. She was a failure. That's what she was. Perhaps she could write her paper on how much of a failure she was? That's a great idea... she thought sarcastically.  
She got up from her chair and walked up the stairs to her bedroom and collapsed onto her bedspread. Her eyes scanned her rooms, hoping for some inspiration, when her eyes landed on the two sculptures made by Adam. Looking at the pieces brought her thoughts along the path of remembrance – all the moments between them both good and bad. She remembered the time she had first seen him in Price's office while they were discussing a drug test, and how she felt a little compassion for the poor kid and curiosity that would make him turn to drugs. When she saw him later on in her science class, she was a bit apprehensive. She had no idea how he would act and if he would try foisting his goods off on her. It was an unfounded thought, and for one she laughed at now. Knowing the Adam of today, made her wonder what she apparently saw back then in the beginning. All of him was there on the surface begging to be noticed, but she had overlooked it to judge him like the others. She was glad that she had the opportunity to realize her mistake and get to really see him.  
She thought about when she first went to his shed and told him why she knows he hates November. Watching him tear up had almost been her undoing. She still hadn't known the real Adam Rove at the point, but she was beginning to learn. When he told her that he talked to Angels, she had felt a kinship with him. Whether it was true or not, she didn't care. Just the thought that he could understand what she was dealing with was enough to make her get closer to him. He began to mean the world to her.  
Thinking about him also brought back the moment of Ascension and nearly destroying both him and the connection they shared. That span of time when he wouldn't talk to her and had stopped doing art had been the worst point in her life. She felt incomplete without him – his shy smiles, his nickname, his presence. When he forgave her, she could have cried with happiness, but then she ruined it by telling him she wasn't ready for a relationship. Their friendship had been so fresh, so new... and she had ruined it with unthinking words. Looking at the little cheerleader, she suddenly got the urge to write the feelings she felt about Adam down. An hour later, she looked down at the revised copy, surprised at how well it fit together. She was actually looking forward to tomorrow.  
  
Meanwhile, Adam was having similar problems with his own poem. He couldn't decide what to write it on, and was debating with himself who he 'should' write it on. In reality if it wasn't his mother, it should be Iris, because she wouldn't be happy to know that he had chosen someone else over her. That thought gave him pause. Wasn't he in fact doing that even now? Unconsciously, he was always choosing Joan over Iris. He looked to her for answers, looked to her for understand... he just looked at her. He drew her in his sketches, he made art with her image in his mind. With a sudden revelation, he began to work on his own poem...  
  
The next day came, and sitting in a stuffy classroom of thirty students all squirming under their teacher's gaze, the tension was thick. The majority of the students weren't looking forward to reading off their poems, some were even scribbling last minute poems having forgot or procrastinated too long the night before. Joan sat through roll call, wishing the teacher would hurry up so she could read off her poem. When it seemed he was going in order by seats, she slumped down in hers, getting ready for a boring day. She would be one of the last to go along with Adam who sat to her right in the back row.  
The class droned on as each student stood up and read off their works – some fairly decent, some humorous, and others that were either rushed, didn't make sense, or were downright painful to endure. Finally it came to Joan's row, and she sat up straighter. She hoped that she wouldn't stumble through the words and ruin the effect of the poem. When the person next to her sat down, Joan squirmed out of her seat and stood up, picking up her sheet with the poem on it. Silence descended on the room only broken up by the occasional shifting in the seat and crinkle of paper. Joan looked down at the words as they swam before her eyes before glancing over at Adam, the look in his eyes giving her the courage she needed. Taking a deep breathe, she began her poem.  
"My poem is titled 'What You Are to Me'"  
  
You are like the air  
Gentle when calm, a sight to behold  
I need you to live, to breathe  
Without you, I flounder and lose my way  
  
You are like the sun  
Shining your warmth down upon me  
I long to bask in your bright rays  
Knowing in your light I am safe  
  
You are like the rain  
Washing away my tears  
Sliding across my skin in comfort  
Letting me know you care without a word  
  
You are like the snow  
Bright in its newly fallen splendor  
You make me shiver with awareness  
Layering me in your arms  
  
You are my star  
A bright beacon in the dark sky  
You fill me with thoughts of a new day  
Knowing I will always have you to look forward to  
  
You are my world  
Keeping me grounded and secure  
You are strong to hold my burdens  
Soft to my despair  
  
You are my universe  
The center of my life  
My thoughts, my love circles around you  
Wanting to show you of my worth...  
  
Without another glance to Adam or anyone else in the classroom, Joan retook her seat and waited with bated breathe to hear Adam's poem.  
  
He sat there listening to Joan's poem, his heart fluttering in his chest. He didn't know where he got the idea, but he knew the poem was about him. He never really knew how much he meant to her, he only dared hope that she cared about him as much as he did her. With her words, she told him everything he had longed to know but couldn't risk asking. His eyes never leaving her face, he stood up after she had sat down with her eyes fastened to the paper in her hands, and he began his own poem.  
  
"This is 'Jane.'"  
To me, you are like the wind  
Ever coming, but always going  
You sweep into lives, only to flow out  
Leaving behind the upheaval  
Your very nature demands  
  
To me, you are the droplets of vapor  
That cling so lovingly to my bathroom mirror  
You bring with you all the promises  
And take away the warmth at your departure  
Leaving nothing behind, save for the chill of emptiness  
  
To me, you are like the changing leaves  
You are so familiar in your splendid greens  
But then changing, you morph  
Into something vibrant, as you drift away  
When you leave, you take all the sunshine with you  
  
To me, you are like a rare flower  
Beautiful in bloom, beguiling us with your love  
You warm the heart, just as the sun warms your soft petals  
You take away the fresh scent and beauty of love  
Leaving nothing behind but forlorn longing for it to return  
  
To me, you're the girl known as Jane  
Mysterious, beautiful, beguiling  
You are always there when I need you the most  
You understand when others couldn't  
You care when others wouldn't...  
To leave, is to take away my very existence  
To stay, is to give me my own piece of heaven  
When I said I talked to Angels, I never knew I was talking about you...  
Thank you, the girl named Jane  
  
Joan sat there in her seat, stunned at Adam's beautiful words. She couldn't believe what she had heard, nevermind that his poem surpassed anything she could have written. It conveyed his fears, his hopes, the way he saw her... And what he saw sounded so beautiful that her eyes teared up in amazement. She dared a glance at Adam, while he sat down and the teacher began his speech. She met his gaze, her eyes showing him all that she was feeling – despair at the chance that she had missed, wonder at him and his words, hope that someday they could have their chance, and happiness that she had a little piece of him to hold onto.  
He met her gaze, reflecting his own emotions back at her. He realized that she hadn't refused him out of dislike of him or dating him... She actually cared deeply about him, and she was probably as scared and confused about how she felt the same as he was. It was so new and overwhelming, surpassing anything he had ever felt and known. Never in his sixteen years had he met someone who so completely fit him, even if on the surface they had no common interests. He gave her the barest of smiles, as the bell rang indicating the class was over, not even standing up until all of the other students had filed out of the room. When he and Joan were alone, he stood up and walked around to offer her a hand. His fingers curled around her slim, soft hand helping her to rise, not stepping away when she was on her feet and pressed against him...  
"Adam... I never knew... That was beautiful."  
"Cha, Jane... I was going to say that about your poem. It totally blew my mind." He looked down at her, reaching up to brush away a stray tear that had fallen from her beautiful brown eyes. She gave him a half smile, wondering what was going on between them, helpless to stop it even if she wanted to. "If only I had known..."  
When he didn't finish the thought, she nudged him gently before saying, "what would have happened if you did know?"  
"I would have done the smart thing and waited until you came back to me... Instead of rushing into things with Iris."  
Joan bit her lip at the other girl's name, dropping his hand from her own. Here she was standing intimately close with someone else's boyfriend, not even caring that they could be seen at any moment.  
"Adam-"  
"Shh, Jane. It's my fault that we're in this mess... I, I plan on fixing things today after school."  
"You shouldn't dump her because of me. If that's what you're talking about. Don't get me wrong, I want to be with you more than anything, but not at the expense of someone else's feelings."  
"Jane... I need to do this. Not for you or for us, but for me. I've been a fool, and all this time I've been dodging what I need to do. I've been thinking about this for awhile now, I just didn't know that I was until last night when I was thinking about the poem. It made me realize that you were the one in my life, if only in thought... She was just there by my side as a... I don't know. I guess I was hiding."  
"It's okay, Adam... I just don't want you making a big mistake. Trust me the consequences aren't all that great. I should know..." Joan gave a quiet laugh, thinking about her disaster with his art project.  
"Breaking things off with her won't be a mistake... Taking a chance on you isn't a mistake either. Losing you is the biggest mistake I could ever do." With those words, he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, neither one caring that the bell for the next class was going off. They only pulled apart, when they heard whistles from the students that were filing in for their next class. Joan and Adam looked up at each other and laughed, grabbing their books and rushing to get to Chemistry class, running hand in hand. They never saw the figure that had been waiting for Adam to get out of class who had heard and witnessed the kiss between the two. She brushed back the tears that ran down her cheeks, knowing that she never really had a chance with him. With a sob, Iris ran out of the school and down the steps, needing to get away from the chance of having the talk with Adam, and having to see the two together. She knew that they were meant to be together, she just wished that it had been her... 


End file.
